Ich will mit dir im Nichts ertrinken
by Brambleshadow of WindClan
Summary: "Lass die Welt versinken. Ich will mit dir im Nichts ertrinken. Mit dir als Feuer aufersteh'n und in der Ewigkeit vergeh'n!" Falling in love was not something Death had ever expected to experience before, let alone with a young Bavarian princess named Elisabeth, later known as the Empress of Austria. Neither had die Todesengel. [Series. Tod/Sisi. Full description/summary inside.]
1. sweet surrender, loving you

**Series Description:** _Lass die Welt versinken. Ich will mit dir im Nichts ertrinken. Mit dir als Feuer aufersteh'n und in der Ewigkeit vergeh'n!_

Falling in love was not something Death had ever expected to experience before, let alone with a young Bavarian princess named Elisabeth who would become the Empress of Austria only a few months after their first meeting. Courting her, he couldn't care less if the empire crumbles around her: he wants her to sink into nothingness with him, be risen again as fire and pass into eternity.

That being said, there were a few things he _didn't_ expect (and that no one else saw coming, either).

**Notes: **Title comes from a line in "Lie With Me" by Inkubus Sukkubus. Also contains too many references to other songs from other musicals, Inkubus Sukkubus, and Celtic Thunder, because I can't seem to help myself, apparently.

Inspired by what Lucheni says during "Die ersten vier Jahre" about 1) Death being incredibly annoyed to see Elisabeth at the Viennese court; and 2) Franz Joseph leaving her alone a lot during the first year of their marriage (and the headcanon stormxpadme and I share that little Sophie is Sisi's daughter with Death).

Warning for sexual content between a sixteen-year-old and the physical embodiment of Death who is whoever-the-fuck-knows-how-old, so if that squicks you out, don't read.

In case it isn't obvious from the description, Death is Uwe Kröger (mix of 1992!Vienna and 2002!Essen). Elisabeth is Pia Douwes.

**Summary:** In Elisabeth's first year of marriage, Death takes advantage of the Emperor leaving her alone to pay the young Empress a visit.

* * *

**sweet surrender, loving you**

**"**_**E**lisabeth. Elisabeth…_"

The young Empress stilled, dropped her hand from her parrot's cage, and slowly turned, her eyes scanning the room. She saw nothing, save for the shadows in one dark corner, and yet…

There. One ink-black form, darker than the other shadows and moving of its own accord.

"Show yourself," she demanded in a whisper.

The raven-colored form drifted closer, slid across the floor toward her before condensing, solidifying into the shape of an androgynous young man with shoulder-length blond hair, bi-colored eyes—one blue, one green—and wearing a black velvet suit and ankle-length coat.

"_Kaiserin_." Though he breathed her title like a caress of fingers over her skin, a faint mocking smile curved his mouth.

"Death," she replied coolly. "I don't recall asking for your presence."

"_You didn't_," he said simply, gliding closer to her with a panther-like grace. "_I am not one for you to summon at will, Elisabeth, like a dog_."

She decided not to respond to that and turned back to her pet bird.

"_The Emperor has left you alone again, I see," _Death remarked. She didn't have to look at him to see he was smiling coldly: she could hear his amusement in his voice. "_That makes this, what, the fiftieth time since you've married him? I've lost count._"

Elisabeth still said nothing; sensed from the coolness near her back that he had moved even closer. Then she felt his hand, his fingers, cold on her shoulder.

"_Elisabeth_," he murmured, breath warm on her ear—and she still wasn't sure how that worked when his touch was so cold. He trailed a finger down her spine, and she shivered, leaned into his touch despite herself. "_Your husband is never here for you. I am._" His voice was so gentle, so soothing… "_Let me comfort you._"

His hand on her back slid around her side to rest against her stomach. She felt him dip his head, felt cool lips brush against her neck. A soft sigh escaped her.

This couldn't be wrong, could it, to allow herself to relax and seek comfort in Death's embrace for only a few moments?

Her eyes slid closed; she tilted her head back, heard him hum quietly in contentment—or possibly satisfaction. Then she felt herself sway gently across the floor. When Elisabeth opened her eyes again, she found herself staring into a mirror.

She studied the reflection, silently taking in the way he held her, the way mist swirled around the floor and curled up her bare feet and ankles. Her body fit perfectly against his, in a way it never did with her husband, and… There was something quietly intimate about his hand resting on her lower abdomen, his head bent to her throat, as if—

"Where are we?" Elisabeth asked instead, more to distract herself from her line of thought and how _good _it felt, having him simply _holding _her like this. His touch was gentle, not possessive, and yet…

Der Tod lifted his head, his bi-colored eyes glinting with an emotion she couldn't quite name as he spotted their reflection in the mirror. "_Another layer of reality,_" he answered after a moment's consideration. "_Not your world, not my realm, but somewhere in between._" His mouth quirked in a half-smile. "_I didn't want us to be disturbed, especially not by your husband._" He sniffed disdainfully. "_Not that the Kaiser_"—he said Franz Joseph's title as if it left a sour taste in his mouth—"_would notice your absence anyway._"

Part of the young Empress knew she should _try_ to say something in defense of her husband, but a much larger part of her agreed with her dark prince and knew he was right.

Curious now, she looked around the… room, for lack of a better word, and was mildly surprised at how much it resembled her own bedroom. "But it—"

"_Is identical to your room, yes. Like I said, Elisabeth, we are in another layer of reality, just beneath your world. In a sense, I suppose you could say we still _are _in your room, but no one will see or hear us._"

She swallowed, slightly nervous now, and felt her heart begin to beat just a little faster. "And why did you bring me here?"

"_I told you, meine junge Kaiserin, I want to comfort you._" Both his hands were touching her now, smoothing her dress down along the slight curve of her hips. Light kisses traced a path up her neck to her ear. "_Come and lay with me, Elisabeth._" She closed her eyes briefly; shivered at the almost pleading, seductive note in his voice. "_Allow me to give you pleasure where your mortal husband cannot._"

His kisses, his touch, his voice… It was as if he were weaving a spell around her, and she couldn't break free. No, she didn't _want_ to break whatever enchantment he was working on her. He was so gentle with her, and in his arms, she felt… safe, warm—the same feeling she'd had when he rescued her and brought her back to her bed after her circus trick had gone horribly wrong. Ihr schwarzer Prinz.

She'd been terrified that first night after her wedding; hadn't allowed Franz Joseph to consummate their marriage until three days later. Now, with dem Tod, she was still scared at the thought of physical intimacy, but it was… different: fear mixed with anticipation. She'd had no education in the matters of sex; she wasn't expected to enjoy the physical act; she was seen as a means to an end: providing an heir to the throne. Franz hadn't—

Elisabeth shut down the thought of her husband with the realization that she wanted to take this forbidden pleasure being offered to her and _make_ it hers, and that Death was waiting for her verbal consent. (And wasn't _that_ a new experience!)

She opened her eyes, met his in their reflection. "Yes." A tremor ran down her spine and throughout her body. "Make love to me."

She sensed, rather than saw, him smile. Then long, slender fingers were slowly working at her dress, removing it from her body. With each new expanse of skin that was exposed of her shoulders and back, his lips brushed a feather-light kiss there. At last, she stood there only in her undergarments and then even those, too, were gone.

Her eyes again caught their reflection in the mirror; and for a second, stunned by what she saw there, she couldn't breathe: Her pale, slim, naked form, her dark hair cascading down her back, held from behind by the handsome, blond-haired figure all in black; mist swirling around them and his hands lightly cupping, teasing her breasts until her nipples hardened… Then one of his hands moved lower down the front of her body, and Elisabeth gasped as she felt the growing dampness between her thighs. She had never seen anything more erotic in her sixteen years of life.

"_Der Tod und das Mädchen_," he murmured, blue/green eyes holding her brown ones in the mirror as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "_Are you familiar with the motif, my Elisabeth?_"

Her lungs remembered she needed to breathe; and she inhaled, exhaled shakily. "I—no," she admitted. "I never paid much attention to what my governess and tutors were teaching me." She'd been more concerned about playing outside with her brothers, dreaming, writing poetry, wanting to ride with the wind.

"_Hmm._" His mouth brushed the shell of her ear, and she shivered. "_Doesn't matter. You're living it right now._" His fingers teased through her damp curls, found her wet sex. She gasped, reached up with one hand to tangle her fingers in his hair, and arched reflexively against him, her gasp turning to a low noise of frustration when he teased her there for a few moments more and then withdrew his fingers.

In the mirror she saw him smile, saw his eyes slowly take in her suddenly-flushed appearance. Then he was lifting her, bridal-style, and carrying her to the ghostly replica of her bed. A sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her for a moment when he laid her down, strengthened by his bi-colored eyes studying her with an intense expression she couldn't quite read. It shattered when he spoke to her: "_Unless you wish it, I will not use my kiss on you, Elisabeth. At least, not this time._"

She frowned slightly, confused. Hadn't he already—? "Your kiss?"

His mouth quirked in a faint, half-smile. "_Mein Todeskuss, schwarzes Möwchen. If I were to kiss your mouth, you would leave this body behind and join me in the underworld forever._"

"I would die," she translated.

"_Yes._" He hesitated, then admitted, "_Now, however, is not your time. And I would rather you came willingly, rather than me taking you by force._" As if realizing he'd revealed too much, he joined her on the bed, leaned over her, settling on his knees between her legs, his long black coat flaring out behind him on the duvet. Remembering what had happened with Franz, she spread her legs to further accommodate him, aligning the inside of her legs with his hips.

Part of her instantly wanted to shrink back from his intense expression as his eyes slowly wandered over her body—she still wasn't used to feeling so exposed—while another part of her wanted to tear his clothes off and bring him _closer_. She shifted beneath him—impatient, indecisive—and stilled when finally—_finally_—he touched her. His hands lightly brushed over her thighs, her hips, her waist. Then he lowered his head, followed the path of his hands with his mouth; and Elisabeth suddenly became aware of the heat spreading deep within her, of a throbbing between her legs. Had she felt this way when Franz Joseph took her to bed? She didn't think so.

He took his time, mapping out her body with hands and mouth and tongue; and she gasped sharply, her fingers tangling in his blond hair, as his tongue swirled around her nipple on one breast. Her hips bucked up involuntarily a second later when she felt his hand trail down her body and his thumb deliberately brush against her swollen, sensitive flesh.

Death lifted his head, gave her another unreadable look; and she tightened her grip on his hair, shivered as his fingers circled her _there_ and pressed against her, lightly teasing. The noise that forced its way up from her throat was one she hadn't realized she _could _make: part anticipation, part fear, part sexual frustration.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "_Relax, Kaiserin. I want to make sure you're ready for me, but if you need to let go…_" One slender finger slowly pushed inside her, then another; her inner muscles clamped down hard, greedily, before giving way as he carefully worked to stretch her. "…_then let go._"

This wasn't her first time being physically intimate with a man (the Emperor had had _that_ privilege), but for all intents and purposes, with these new sensations, how almost _tender_ he was with her… it might as well have been. She couldn't think clearly; her world had narrowed to the unfamiliar _heat_ coursing through her, the bed beneath her, _him _and how _good _it felt having him slowly preparing her in this way…

It wasn't until he'd added a third finger, reached _somewhere _inside her that had her panting, moaning when he curled his fingers in a claw-like gesture, that her narrowed world shattered, and she fell.

At last, breathing heavily, her vision cleared to see him looking rather… No, that _wasn't_ a smug expression, was it?

It was. "_You want to live, to belong to yourself so badly, Elisabeth, and yet you come apart at my touch." _His upper lip curled in disdain._ "Your Kaiser is weak. He doesn't know you the way I do, mein Vögelchen._"

She should be angry at him for that, she knew, and any other time she would have been, but right now… Her hands loosened their grip on his hair, moved down his shoulders to shove at his long black coat and get it _off_ him. He was wearing _far _too many clothes; he had _no _right to look as _smug_ as he currently did (even if he _had_ just given her what Franz hadn't); he'd been the one to beg her to lie with him and _she_ had told him to make love to her; and she wanted_ this, _wanted_ him_…

Death helped her by shrugging out of his coat (she felt a strange sense of loss when he removed his fingers from her); then her fingers were tugging at his velvet waistcoat (or was it a shirt?) and lifting it up over his head.

Now that his upper body was exposed to her, she couldn't resist staring—and when staring wasn't enough, hesitantly reached out to run her hands over the lean muscles of his abdomen and upper arms, around the back of his shoulders. She frowned when her fingertips brushed against what felt like healed-over scar tissue—vertical slits—just near his shoulder blades. "Was ist…?"

His cool skin twitched beneath her touch, and the question died in her throat at the dark look in his eyes—a look that clearly said it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. It shifted to a completely different intensity when she trailed her fingertips down his back, then along the waistband of his pants. _"Elisabeth…"_ There was a raspy quality to his voice that hadn't been there earlier; his hips pressed slightly into her touch. _"Lass mich nicht warten."_

A thrill rushed through her at the realization that _she_ held this sort of power over him, that _she _could drive Death himself mad with desire for her. She debated over teasing him for a few minutes more, but the press of him beneath her hand and an answering throb from between her legs reminded her of her own needs. In seconds she stripped him of his pants, tossed them on the floor. Her gaze dropped, studied him, flicked back up to his grey-blue/green-blue eyes.

_"It's all right, Elisabeth,"_ he assured her. _"This form is specifically for you."_ He lightly grazed his right hand over her outer thigh. _"Touch me. Trust me."_ Something she couldn't name—private amusement, maybe? —lit in his eyes as he added, _"Savor each sensation."_

Her lips twitched in a smile before she could stop herself. "You did not just say that."

The way his head tilted to the side reminded her of an inquisitive dog. _"Too much?"_

She considered it, then shook her head. "No. I needed to hear it," she admitted. It was a relief, knowing he _wanted_ her to enjoy being with him—and that, whatever he'd meant by it, this face he wore was only for her.

Yet again aware of her own arousal (and _that_ was something she still wasn't used to), Elisabeth wrapped her hand around the length of him, stroked him from base to tip, and found she liked how he hardened at her touch.

_"Elisabeth…"_

She heard the warning in his voice, guided him closer. He nudged at her entrance; she gasped at the slight pinch of pain that quickly gave way to pleasure as he slowly pushed inside. Her legs wrapped around his hips; and her hands found his shoulders, the silken strands of his hair.

Der Tod brushed his lips over the join where her neck met shoulder, remained still inside her while her body adjusted. _"Did I hurt you?"_

Strange, she thought, that Death should be so concerned for her where her husband had not, but then again… he was more considerate of her inexperience than Franz ever had been. "No," she answered, letting her hands slip from his hair, his back to lay palms-up on both sides of the pillow. "No, you didn't hurt me."

His mouth curved in a smile against her skin; he lifted his head to look at her, trailed his fingertips across her sensitive inner forearm in a way that had her shivering. Then he began to move within her, slowly; and she moaned, shuddered. He filled her perfectly, each long slow thrust gathering heat that pooled low in her abdomen; sending lightning arcing through her veins. She shifted beneath him, trying to get _closer_; gradually became aware that the fingers of his left hand were laced with hers.

It wasn't long before she was lost, drowning in new sensations, swept away in the madness of desire brought on by her dark prince. There was no God, no Emperor—only Death and the way he made her feel _alive_, every movement taking her higher, higher.

_"You want to fly, Elisabeth?"_ His breath was warm on her ear, his voice a husky whisper. She couldn't think of a coherent response; her reply was a soft moan. Cool lips kissed her throat. _"Then fly with me, Möwchen."_

One, two thrusts and she flew over the edge with him, wordlessly crying out her release as he came to his own climax inside her.

At last, spent, body trembling with aftershocks, he rolled them over and Sisi blinked as she suddenly found herself looking down at him. Her dark hair spilling over her shoulders contrasted with the white of the bedsheets, his pale skin and blond hair. And right now… she didn't think she'd ever seen him look more beautiful than he did now.

_"And how was it for you, meine schöne Kaiserin?" _For a second, she'd thought he was going to say something other than "Kaiserin" and had stopped himself. And the way he'd practically purred the question... Heat jolted through her, zinged through her veins and across her nerves.

"I... good." She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, so she could better straddle him, and sighed in pleasure at the sensations brought by the change of angle. He was still hard inside her, and part of her wanted to laugh at the thought that he could give her a child right now, and Franz Joseph would never know it wasn't his.

Her eyes widened a second later in a mixture of guilt and panic. Her husband . . .

Death frowned, concern in his blue-green eyes. _"Elisabeth?"_ He turned to shadow, coiled around her; a surprised yelp had barely left her mouth when he was solid again, embracing her from behind and gently easing her back down on the bed with both of them lying on their sides. _"What is it?"_

"Franz Joseph. I... What we just did... It's a sin in the eyes of the church, isn't it, for me to sleep with someone other than my husband?"

_"Yet no one bats an eye if a woman from the red-light district is picked out for him," _Death commented wryly. His hand grazed over her stomach; she bit her lower lip to keep from groaning as her body reached to his touch. _"Besides, Elisabeth, what we did isn't a sin." _His lips brushed a kiss against her neck. _"For one thing, I'm not human and never have been. For another…" _She could hear the dry amusement in his voice. _"…we're already married."_

Elisabeth turned so sharply to face him that for a second, she felt almost dizzy. "We're _what_? When did _that _happen?"

_"Don't you remember?" _There was a mocking glint in his mismatched eyes now. _"You said 'Yes' when Rauscher asked, but you never heard Franz's reply. It's not my fault if I was quicker to answer than he was."_

His mouth twitched in a half-smile at the look on her face. _"You knew perfectly well what you were doing, Vögelchen, so don't give me that look."_

"I—" Her indignant protest died in her throat as she thought back to her wedding. She'd been looking at Franz Joseph when the priest had said, "If this is your will, then answer with 'Yes'." Her _yes_ had been quickly followed by a low laugh, Death calling her name and answering with a "Ja" of his own.

She never had heard Franz Joseph's response to Rauscher. Only Death's.

To avoid looking at his mouth or the smug expression on his face, she focused on his eyes instead, noticed the flecks of gray hidden in the blue and green. "And why would you want to tie yourself down to a human, mortal girl?"

_"You won't be in this form forever, Elisabeth," _he reminded her—which she wanted to protest was not really an answer, but he was right. _"Und… 'kein Feuer, keine Kohle kann brennen so heiß als heimliche Liebe, von der niemand nichts weiß.'" _His fingertips brushed over her cheek, then down her side. He propped himself up so that he was looking down at her. _"'Keine Rose, keine Nelke kann blühen so schön, als wenn zwei verliebte Seelen beieinander tun stehn. Setzt du mir einen Spiegel ins Herze hinein, damit du kannst sehen, wie so treu ich es mein'!'" _

Her brow furrowed as she considered his words, recognized them dimly as a poem she'd once read. "Liebesgedichte? Really?"

He shrugged. _"It's not Heinrich Heine—no one knows who wrote it—but…"_

She had to admit, it _did_ warm her. "I like it." Then another thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened. "No. You didn't. Did you?"

Death said nothing; merely fixed an innocent expression on his face and raised an eyebrow at her. Then he cocked his head to the side, as if he'd heard something she hadn't. _"We should return to your world, Elisabeth. I believe some of your maids are about to come looking for you, and they seem rather in a hurry."_

Odd, how quickly she'd forgotten that he'd slipped her sideways into another layer of reality, that there would be people who would be seeking her attention and there was still so much she had to learn about being Austria's Empress. She twined her legs with his, wrapped her arms around him and twined her fingers in his hair as she rolled over onto her back and took him with her. Elisabeth buried her face in the crook of his neck, pressed a kiss of her own there and breathed in his scent. "Can't we remain here until they leave? I want to stay with you, mein schwarzer Prinz."

She felt him shudder, heard him groan softly. _"Do not tempt me, Elisabeth. I would love to spend the rest of the day and night here making love to you, but we both have our duties and you need food, drink, and rest."_

Reluctantly, she had to admit he was right. She held onto him tightly, not wanting to watch as he bent reality to his will and brought them back to her bedchamber. Even when she felt her real bed beneath her, she didn't let him go.

Death didn't seem to mind—he seemed as loathe to leave her as she was to have him go. For a few moments he lay there in her bed with her, his body covering hers. Then he again dissolved to shadow, weaved around her, and she heard his voice in her mind: _Tonight, mein Möwchen, I'll take you riding with the wind. Now get dressed. _His mental voice sounded amused. _Unless you want your maidservants gossiping throughout the palace._

She glared at the raven-black phantom form, then glanced down and stifled a shriek as she saw that her clothes had not made the journey back with her. His quiet laughter echoed in her mind as she hastily pulled on her undergarments and nightgown. She sensed him drift around her once more; then he was gone at the knock on her door and her maidservants being granted entrance.

If any of them noticed the scent of night and decay clinging to her skin, her flushed appearance, the traces of fluid on her bedsheets… they made no comment.

* * *

**Translation Notes:**

\- das Möwchen = little seagull (not a typical German word; I made it up); "schwarzes Möwchen" = little black gull  
\- das Vögelchen = little bird  
\- Der Tod und das Mädchen = Death and the Maiden; an erotic art motif dating back to the 16th century depicting a young, scantily-clad or nude woman often embracing the personification of Death like a lover (also the title of, among other things, a poem by Matthias Claudius—which was probably the inspiration for Death's part in "Elisabeth, mach auf mein Engel" with Death speaking first instead of the girl).  
\- der Todeskuss = kiss of death; death-kiss  
\- die Kaiserin = empress  
\- schön = beautiful, pretty, lovely, etc.  
\- jung = young  
\- mein = my

The poem Death recites to Elisabeth, "Kein Feuer, keine Kohle", was written by an anonymous author in the eighteenth century. Literal translation (from _The Penguin Book of German Verse_ by Leonard Forster) is as follows: _No fire, no coal can burn as hot as secret love that no one knows about. / No rose, no carnation can bloom so beautifully as when two people in love are together. / Set a glass in my heart so that you can see how true my love is._


	2. Reiten mit dem Wind

**Notes: **Sequel to "sweet surrender, loving you". Prequel to "hija de la muerte".

Elisabeth is sixteen at the time of this fic. Explicit (consensual) sexual content happens between her and the personification of Death. There is also a one-sided pregnancy kink on her end. If that squicks you out, turn back now.

As usual, applied actors are Uwe Kröger (Essen 2002 production with some 1992 Vienna characterization) and Pia Douwes.

**Summary: **Death makes good on his promise to take Elisabeth riding with the wind. And... a few other things.

* * *

**Reiten mit dem Wind**

_**T**_he room temperature dropped, jolting Elisabeth out of a restless sleep. She glanced over, saw that Franz Joseph was still sleeping soundly, and carefully slid out from under the covers when she saw the shadow coiling at the foot of her bed was solidifying into a human shape. Her heart beat faster in anticipation as she remembered what had happened earlier that morning… and his promise to her for tonight.

_"Hello, Elisabeth." _His voice was as much in her mind as it was in the air, and she shivered at the effect it had on her body.

Her dark prince reached out his hand. Wordlessly, Elisabeth stepped forward and threaded her fingers through his. He effortlessly pulled her to him, his hold on her gentle, and warmth spread through her from where they touched.

"Have you come to take me riding with the wind?" she asked him, softly so as not to wake Franz.

He nodded. _"I have. If you would prefer leaving one of the windows open so it would be easier for you, I can do that—but I assume you do not want to wake the Emperor."_

She considered it, then shook her head. "You're right, I don't. But if you can slip in beneath doors, or… between reality or wherever it is you come from… then a window shouldn't be a challenge for you, should it?" At that last, she tilted her head to the side as she looked up at him.

His mouth twitched faintly. _"I suppose not. Very well then. Hold on tight to me, mein schwarzes Vögelchen."_

She did, pressing herself further against him, her arms wrapping around his neck in an embrace. Elisabeth would have been embarrassed about her position at any other time, but here with him and what they had shared earlier that day… She couldn't bring herself to feel self-conscious at the moment.

Not when Death Himself had informed her earlier that _he_ was the one she was rightfully married to, not the Kaiser Franz Joseph von Österreich.

The feel of his arms around her jolted her out of her thoughts, and for a second she rested her head on his shoulder. Then he was turning to shadow, cradling her before she could panic. Her body began to fade, molecules urged on by the force of his own transformation, and then the night swallowed her.

Elisabeth barely had time to marvel at the sensation of being in a new form, how she saw more now with her mind than her eyes, when she felt Death urging her towards the window—and somehow, she could still sense his arms around her.

Then they were through the crack in the window frame, out in the night air, and joyful laughter spilled from her as they caught a breeze and were carried out over the grounds of the Schönbrunn.

Elisabeth could feel him guiding her, staying close; and she sensed that if she were to move too far away from him, she would fall back into her human body. As it was, his nearness comforted her as they rode on the wind, flew as shadowy phantoms through the night over the city of Vienna. The night was young, the moon full, and she felt _free_ in a way she never had before ever since she first came to the palace and Viennese court.

_-Are you enjoying yourself, little gull?-_ His voice whispered across her mind; if she could have, she would have smiled.

-Yes!- Responding in kind, in thoughts, was new to her, but she was nothing if not a quick study. Curious now, wanting to see what exactly she could do in this form, she slipped out of his grasp and coiled around him—making sure to stay close enough to him that his power—magic?—could keep her this shape. Now, with him, she felt more like the girl she'd been on her family's estate rather than the young Empress of a country that bordered her home kingdom. -This is _amazing_!-

Wanting to go _faster_, to _play_, she darted out slightly ahead of him—all while taking in the sights of the city beneath her. -Komm schon! Spiel mit mir!-

Death easily caught up with her; she darted away, he chased.

Elisabeth wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually the moon started to sink lower in the night sky and he was turning her back toward the palace—her room. A noise of protest rose in her throat as they again slipped into her bedchamber and she felt herself growing heavier, dropping back into her human form.

When he was solid, humanoid again, she turned to him and pressed close against him, burying her face against his shoulder. Instead of an Empress, she felt again like the fifteen-year-old girl she'd been a year ago when he'd first met her. "Don't go," she whispered. "Stay. Dreaming and writing poems, or riding with the wind…" She looked up, met his dual-colored eyes; saw his blond hair had turned to silver in the moonlight. "No one understands me like you."

She felt, heard him sigh. _"Elisabeth…"_

Her finger on his lips made him fall silent, but not before she'd caught the note of longing (and maybe exasperation?) in his voice. Then surprise flickered in his eyes at her action—Had no one ever dared to do this to him before?—and his lips involuntarily parted enough for her fingertip to be drawn in.

She froze, whatever she'd been about to say gone from her mind in shock at the sudden warmth of his tongue touching her fingertip, teasing her. Shock quickly faded, only to be replaced by a rush of heat and desire. God, she didn't know how to seduce a man, how to be enticing. Not that he was a man, exactly—he certainly wasn't human—but in that moment, all Elisabeth knew was that she _wanted_ him.

"Stay," she said again, moving her hand to caress the left side of his face. A quick glance to her bed reminded her that Franz Joseph was still there; then her eyes were back on Death. "Do what you did before. Take us to that other reality where no one can disturb us. I…" She stood up on her toes, brought her mouth to his right ear, and whispered, "I want you to make love to me. Again." She dropped her head, nuzzled against his chest like a cat. "Right now."

Death didn't say a word, but she felt her dark prince wrap his arms around her and turn, his long black coat swirling around both their legs. When she opened her eyes after the slight dizziness had passed, Elisabeth realized they were again in that other layer of reality—still her room, yet different, with mist everywhere. Better yet, they were alone: Franz Joseph was nowhere to be seen.

Her nightgown was gone, and for a moment, she shivered at both the sensation of her lover using his powers to remove her clothes with a thought and the eerie dampness of their surroundings. Then he was guiding her towards the bed; her legs hit the edge; and she reclined back on the covers, looking up at him in anticipation. She ran her tongue over her lips, felt her nipples harden and heat gather in her lower abdomen. "Please…" she whispered, dropping her eyes from his to run her gaze along his body, and a low noise left her when she saw he was _still _wearing his clothes. She wanted them _off_, wanted his body covering hers, wanted him _inside her_…

Before Elisabeth knew what she was doing, she was crawling on the bed toward him, rising up on her knees, running her hands down the velvet of his clothing and hooking her fingers into his waistband. Part of her was shocked at her own daring—she would _never_ have done this with Franz—but a larger part of her wanted it to be clear to him that _this_ was what she wanted. "Süßer Tod, mein schwarzer Prinz… Ich brauche dich. Ich will dich." She nuzzled into, kissed his throat. "Take me."

Elisabeth felt, more than heard him groan; felt him shudder. Then her hands were on cool, pale skin and he was easing her back down onto the bed; settling his body between her legs, over her; his hands running up the sides of her hips, her ribs. Cool kisses that burned like fire were at her shoulder, her neck.

She gasped, wrapped her arms around his upper back, dug her nails in as her hips bucked upward in frustration. Elisabeth still didn't understand it, this _need_ for him that sent an electric storm through her blood, liquid heat pooling in her core and dripping down her inner thighs with every moment that passed—but she knew she trusted him, wanted _this _with him in a way she never had with Franz Joseph, and he would ensure she felt nothing but pleasure.

One of his hands drifted down her side, between her legs; and she tossed her head back, cried out wordlessly when he cupped her mound, pressed two fingers against her swollen flesh. She heard him hiss softly in surprise; then his head jerked back from her neck and she was staring into darkened blue/green eyes. _"Elisabeth…"_

Moving purely on instinct, she spread her legs further apart, ran one hand down his back to flank, wrapped her fingers around the base of him. "Bitte…" She didn't even recognize the sound of her voice as her hips canted upward and her hand tried to guide him _closer_. "Ich will dich tief in mir. Ich _brauche _dich tief in mir. Lass mich nicht warten."

Death didn't say a word, but she noticed the way his pupils dilated, lust and something deeper she couldn't name (didn't want to name) flaring in and darkening his bi-colored eyes. He drew his upper body back from her, rocked back on his haunches with his legs folded underneath him. For a moment, confusion worried at her as she wondered what he was doing; then his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer, following the angle of his thighs. She let go of him, her hands falling to her sides and clawing at the bedsheets; and she nearly sobbed in relief, in need when she felt the head of him nudge at her entrance.

Then he was slowly pushing inside her; and she whimpered, moaned at the stretch and burn of it, of her body strangling him before giving way to his invasion. She was so wet that it didn't hurt, exactly, but without him preparing her it was a tighter fit than the previous time they had done this—and she didn't care, because it felt _so very good_.

Dimly she was aware that she was panting, her chest heaving, fingers curled into fists in the sheets, a low sound of lust and need and desire leaving her as he sheathed himself to the hilt, deeper than he'd been before, and her inner muscles fluttered around him as she struggled with the sensation of being so very _full_.

Elisabeth hooked her lower legs around his waist, crossed her ankles instinctively to keep them in place. Her glazed-over brown eyes looked into his; skimmed over his face, his lips; ran down his lean muscled form with grayish skin to where their bodies joined before again jumping up to his face. Then he began to move—and between his hands on her hips, her waist; his gaze holding hers; the feel of him deep inside her… it felt as if she were going up in flames despite the coolness of his body with each touch, movement, look corrupting her further. Suddenly Elisabeth felt a strange urge to laugh: she'd already lain with the god of Death, already had his seed spilled within her (her womb seemed to clench at the thought), and now she'd oh so _willingly_ taken him again into her bed, between her legs. How much further could she sin and fall from grace?

_He's your husband, _a small voice in the back of her head reminded her. Before she could squash it, the voice added: _There would be nothing wrong if you conceived by him_.

Elisabeth had never seriously considered it before, having children (even though she'd known one day she would be married off and it was expected of her—it _was_ expected of her_ now_ in her role as Empress), but the words in the back of her mind conjured up an image so strong that lust enveloped her all over again and she tightened the grip of her legs around him, arched her back and tossed her head back, fingers holding her onto the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white, and a whimper in her throat.

She'd seen herself reflected in a mirror, in her white nightgown, with Death behind her cloaked in black and his arms around her, his hands resting on her rounded abdomen—her womb—full and heavy with _his_, _their_ unborn child.

And God, right then in that moment she _wanted_ it with an intensity that scared her.

She slowly became aware that his hands were sliding up her waist, her stomach (her muscles clenched _hard_ when he touched her there, and from the noise he made she knew he knew what he was doing to her), her breasts. Then his hands were on either side of her head and her own hands were running over the sides of his ribs, his back, shoulder blades, his hair.

Her eyes widened in surprise, shock, when wet warmth surrounded her right nipple, her breast. Then she realized it was his tongue, his teeth, mouth; and she gasped, tangled her fingers in his blond hair at the overwhelming sensation. This, combined with his slow, deep thrusts… Her gasp turned into a lustful whimper as her body shuddered and her fantasy played again in her mind's eye.

"Death…" It was a sigh, a plea, a prayer—for in that moment her Catholic faith was gone once more, and _he _was her only god.

His mouth released her breast as he lifted his head, looked straight at her. _"Yes, Elisabeth?" _

"I… I want…" The words stuck in her throat as she _looked_ at him, mixed with panic. He was beautiful, so very beautiful—so _ancient_—and yet he hadn't said a word about what he wanted from her other than that he was her rightful husband. What if he didn't—? How could she confess her secret desire to him?

He rolled his hips on his next thrust, hit a spot deep inside her that had her seeing white behind her eyes and a cry of pleasure spilling from her lips. God, she wanted the release only _he _could give her, wanted him to come undone and fill her so full that she _would _conceive by him. She _wanted _it…

And she couldn't even _say_ it.

_"You want what, Vögelchen?" _His left hand came up, lightly palmed her breast, rolled the hard, dusky bud of her nipple between two fingers.

She arched against him, moaned; her thoughts scattered. _Everything. You. Your seed, your baby. I want to have your child. "Death, please…!"_

Her inner muscles fluttered around him, gripped him tight; her hands left his hair, clawed at his upper back, his shoulders. But it wasn't until she felt his thrusts shorten, then still as he buried himself in her that she let the orgasm flood over her.

Elisabeth could swear she felt her body eagerly milking him, greedily taking in every drop he gave her and drawing his seed in further, _further_ until even her thirsty womb could take no more. And still he was hard inside her, emptying into her.

Eyes widened in surprise; she trembled beneath him, tried to shift her hips. "How—?"

_"I'm not human, Elisabeth," _he reminded her wryly. _"It seems to have its advantages in this particular situation."_

The tip of her tongue wet suddenly-dry lips; she shook her head helplessly. "I can't. I—" Her hips shifted, and whatever else she'd been about to protest was lost on a groan as another orgasm swept over her. _You can, _her body seemed to say, _and you will. _

_"That's it," _she heard him murmur. Then, at last, her orgasm subsided, and he gently slid from her, lowered her hips until her lower body was lying fully on the bed.

Suddenly drowsy, muscles loose and languid, Elisabeth found she could barely stay awake as he stretched out beside her on the bed on his side, covered their bodies with the sheet. His forearm wrapped around her middle, and she only just turned her head to look at him, one of her hands resting lightly on her stomach.

Unsure what to say at first, she settled on a slow smile and moved closer to him, breathed in his scent of the night and ice and mist as she turned slowly onto her side and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you. For everything."

She felt, heard him hum wordlessly. _"I'm your husband, Elisabeth. Why wouldn't I want to keep my promise and see to your pleasure?" _He sounded puzzled, as if he couldn't understand _why_ she was thanking him, or what for, and she couldn't help drawing back to look at his face and let out a soft laugh despite her tired state at his expression.

Her laugh turned into a yawn, and she again snuggled up against him, closed her eyes. Reality shifted, another human-warm body was suddenly near hers in the bed—but she didn't care as she sensed her dark prince turn to shadow and linger over her form (odd, how she was back in her nightgown now that she'd returned to her normal layer of the world—she would have to ask him how he did that sometime).

As she drifted further, she thought she felt a cool hand on her lower abdomen, her face, and then cool lips brush against her forehead.

Daraufhin schlief sie getröstet ein.

* * *

**Translations:**

mein schwarzes Vögelchen = my little black bird

Komm schon! Spiel mit mir! = Come on! Play with me!

süßer Tod = Sweet Death

Ich brauche dich. = I need you.

Ich will dich. = I want you. (note: has VERY sexual connotations)

bitte = please

Lass mich nicht warten. = Don't leave me waiting.

Daraufhin schlief sie getröstet ein. = Thereupon she fell asleep, consoled. (reference to the poem "Eine Frau spricht im Schlaf" by Erich Kästner)


	3. hija de la muerte

**Notes: **As usual, der Tod is 2002 Essen!Uwe Kröger. Elisabeth is Pia Douwes.

Follow-up to my other Elisafics, _sweet surrender, loving you _and _Reiten mit dem Wind._

Title is a reference to "Hijo de la Luna" by Mecano (I couldn't think of anything else). There's also references to another fic set in this verse that I still need to finish writing, but chronologically takes place before this fic.

StormXPadme and tod-von-mii (over on Tumblr) are completely awful enablers and part of this resulted from a joke conversation we had a few months back. Sorry not sorry.

Um... let's see... warnings for teen pregnancy (Elisabeth is 16 at the time of this fic; she gave birth at age 17) if that squicks you out, and mentions of past sexual content (but nothing explicit).

**Summary: **The one where Death finds out he's going to be a father for the first time ever in his very long existence.

* * *

**hija de la muerte**

_**1.**_

"_**N**__o! No, no, nonono, no!"_

The death-angels looked on with half bored, part interested, and part very much amused expressions as their boss, Death himself, paced in the main room of his underworld lair with what could only be described as _panic_ all over his face. His black coat flared out behind him as he turned and strode the length of the room again.

This wasn't something they saw every day, after all. Death usually kept his emotions in check, but after meeting that young Bavarian princess, Elisabeth, the current Empress of Austria…

_"__**How **__did this happen?"_ Der Tod raked a hand through his blond hair, turned on his heel. _"I'm_ _**Death**__._ _I_ _**take**_ _life, not…"_ He stopped, gestured helplessly with his hands.

"Well…" one of his angels began dryly, "when two beings—"

Death cut them off with a low snarl and warning glare.

"Here," another Todesengel said in a helpful tone, with a look on her face that was not at all helpful or reassuring, "we prepared a PowerPoint presentation for you."

Der Tod could only stare as a projector, tablet, and screen appeared out of nowhere with, in deed, a PowerPoint presentation already running. (Sometimes, he resented the fact that his realm existed outside of time and his angels could pull in objects from any period in Earth's timeline. This was one of those times—especially since they had made their disapproval of his relationship with Elisabeth quite clear as of late.)

The first slide, labeled "Point 1", read simply: _You had sex with her. _Slide two had the title "Point 1.5" and the caption: _For an ancient deity, you fail at sex education._ The third slide, titled, "Point 2", read _You got your young Empress pregnant. The End._ Then it clicked off, and both projector and screen with tablet vanished to who-knew-where.

For a second, incredulous disbelief won out over his panic. Death glared at his angels with narrowed blue/green eyes. _"I knew_ _**that**_ _much; thanks for your help,"_ he growled sarcastically, and satisfaction flashed through him when a few of the death-angels fidgeted nervously under his stare. It faded when his thoughts turned to Elisabeth, and he turned on his heel to start pacing again.

"You know there are ways to do that _without_ getting Sisi knocked up, right?" he heard one of the Todesengel say.

_"I didn't know I_ _**could**__,"_ Death snapped without thinking.

He didn't have to look to know his angels and the Fates were laughing at his… predicament. "Had a little accident, did we?" one of the angels purred mockingly.

Der Tod curled his upper lip in a silent snarl at that. _"This shouldn't even __**be**__ possible! I'm not human, never have been, and I'm __**certainly**__ not meant to… __**create **__life. And I never intended to—"_ He cut himself off before he revealed anything _else_, like how terrified he was at the thought of being a father for the first time ever in his _very long_ existence.

Some of the angels recognized that it was best to leave him alone and not antagonize him further, and they quickly faded away into the shadows. Soon, the only ones left in the room were Death himself and Samael, one of his lieutenants.

The death-angel studied him for a long moment but remained silent. Then, in a neutral tone that gave away nothing of his own thoughts, the angel asked, "Are you going to tell her?"

_"That I'm the father of her unborn child? Her __**first**__ child, no less?"_ Death shook his head; laughed bitterly, humorlessly. _"She was surprised enough to find out from one of her attendants that she's pregnant."_ Even at seven weeks—just within two months (of her marriage as well, no less)—the young Empress was already showing. _"How do you think she'd react to finding out she's carrying a demigod—__**my **__child?"_

Again, the death-angel's expression revealed nothing. "You won't know unless you tell her, my lord." He paused, then added, "Politely."

Death shot him a look through narrowed eyes, but Samael's tone and face were carefully blank. He had to admit, his lieutenant had a point. And he _did_ want to visit Elisabeth, make sure she was all right…

The decision made, he dismissed Samael with a flick of his hand. _"Make sure the other angels don't do anything stupid."_

Samael dipped his head in acknowledgement, then turned and was gone in a brief flutter of wings. (It was best, the angel figured, _not _to mention the betting pool the other angels had already set up amongst themselves.)

-_x_-

Elisabeth was being attended to by her maidservants when Death finally managed to track down her whereabouts in the Hofburg. In shadow form, he slipped beneath the door and joined some shadows cast over the walls from the well-lit windows.

Irritation flashed through him at the knowledge she wasn't currently alone. Possibilities started swirling. He could telepathically tell her to dismiss her ladies-in-waiting; he could stop time like he had at her wedding; he could cloak himself so only she would see and hear him…

Or he could glamour himself to look like one of her maidservants.

He considered that last one, then discarded it. As amusing as it would be to see her reaction when she figured out it was him, he wasn't in the right mood for that particular trick. He could always save it for a later time.

Speaking of time…

With a thought, the room was held in stasis and her maidservants each froze in place. Death dropped back into his human form, stepped out of the shadows, and over to Elisabeth.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw him, her hands moving automatically, protectively covering her slightly rounded abdomen.

His own gaze dropped to follow her hands. All at once something sharp, possessive clawed at him. _Mine_. He shoved the thought back, but the possessive feeling remained. Then he realized the look in her eyes had been fear, and he gave a slight shake of his head. _"I am not here for that, Elisabeth. Relax. I only wanted to see you."_

She relaxed enough to remove her hands from her stomach, and he moved closer to her after a second's hesitation. _"You are with child." _An obvious statement, he knew, but as he said it there was a catch in his voice—he didn't like that.

"Yes. Clearly."

He ignored the bite in her voice. _"Your husband's?"_ He meant himself, wanted to see if she remembered anything of what he'd told her the first night they made love (or so Elisabeth had called it—and surely she was right, for what _else _could this emotion be that burned within him ever since he first saw her, when he continued to visit her, when their bodies had entwined together on her bed in another reality?).

Her unflinching gaze met his, flared now with hot anger. "Of course. Who else?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say _Der Kaiser_ and see if that jolted her memory, but Death held it back and instead lowered his head in a slightly mocking gesture of respect. As his eyes again fell on her rounded abdomen, he heard himself murmur, _"May I?"_ even as his hand slowly reached out.

If she made a noise to acknowledge his request, he didn't hear it; as it was, she remained still beneath his touch when his hand contacted the fabric of her dress, the bump beneath. Again, that possessive feeling rose sharply, clawed at him—mixed with the sudden certainty that she was carrying _his_ daughter (it _was_ a girl: he could sense it, see Elisabeth with her newborn in her arms) and his own lingering disbelief that the creature growing inside the young Empress was half _him_ and half _her_.

His eyes lifted, met hers, and whatever she saw there had her relaxing completely, her facial features softening. _"Elisabeth…" _Her name left his lips in a whisper as he spread his fingers to completely cover what he could, moved without thinking so he was standing close behind her, embracing her with both hands on her womb in an entirely possessive gesture. Here, holding her in this way… he couldn't help but feel a twisted sort of pleasure that it was _his_ seed taken root within her instead of her cousin's; that the first child she would bear was one from the realm of death.

_"Don't you remember?" _he asked softly, his breath warm on her ear. _"How you shivered in my arms when I last held you like this? When I came to provide you comfort from the loneliness brought to you by your Emperor? Later, when we went riding with the wind as shadows that night?"_ Something he was sure humans would have called regret pierced him that he had slightly tampered with her memories to ensure she thought their time together had only been a dream. It sharpened when she turned her head to look at him, uncertainty in her brown eyes.

"But those were just dreams, were they not?"

Death hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. _"No. They weren't."_ It was best to leave it at that and let her draw her own conclusions. As much as he wanted to tell her outright, the words wouldn't leave his mouth and remained stuck in his throat.

Was he seeing things, or was that a faint smile on her lips? "Ah," she said, with a tone that said she knew—or suspected—what he wasn't telling her.

To avoid looking at her, he pressed his lips to where her neck met shoulder, the bare strip of skin there that wasn't covered up by her dress and closed his eyes. _This_ had never been his intention when he'd considered themselves married at her wedding; when he'd taken advantage of Franz Joseph's habit of constantly leaving her alone to visit her, comfort her, lie with her; when he'd visited her again later that same night to fulfill her dream of riding with the wind by turning them both into shadow and then, afterwards, joined again with her when she'd made it clear she wanted him; and yet…

Seeing Elisabeth, quietly holding her, it calmed his earlier panic—made him feel like he could handle this and, if she wanted him, be there for her to help her whenever she needed it.

_"Der letzte Tanz gehört allein nur mir,"_ he whispered—a reminder now meant to comfort her. _"Den letzen Tanz, den letzten Tanz tanz ich allein mit dir."_

She stirred against him, lulled into relaxation by his touch, his voice, his closeness—he seemed to have that effect on her in a way he never did with any other soul he'd met before—and he stifled a soft groan at the _very_ human male reaction her movement brought out in him. He _liked_ this, Death realized, now that he'd gotten over his earlier panic: Being with Elisabeth, holding her with his hands on her, knowing her womb was growing round and heavy with _their _unborn daughter…

He'd _claimed _her, even if she didn't fully realize it yet.

His mouth moved from her shoulder to just below her ear. _"I know I said I'm not a dog to be summoned, Elisabeth, but… if you need me for __**anything**__… think of me and I'll come to you."_ Yes, he'd stopped time to spend these few stolen moments with her, but it only applied to this room and he'd overstayed his welcome. When he felt her body shiver as she realized the underlying meaning of his words, he unfroze her maidservants and faded into shadow at the same second, taking cover among the other shadows within the room and leaving Elisabeth looking slightly dazed, flushed, confused.

Death lingered for a few seconds more, then moved again through the veil between worlds. There, he watched, unseen, as Elisabeth's servants swarmed around her like concerned mother hens—and the young Empress searched the room for _him_ even though he knew she knew he was no longer there.

Something in him bared its fangs, gave a low, dark laugh. He would have her eventually, he knew—everyone belonged to him in the end—but as much as the sixteen-year-old Empress claimed she belonged to herself… she was already completely _his_.

_Die Schatten werden länger. Mit dir stirbt die Welt. Halt dich nicht fest daran …_

* * *

**Translation notes: **(for those of you who don't know German, or are reading this yet are unfamiliar with the musical)

der Tod = Death

die Todesengel _(pl.)_ = the death-angels (_sing._ der Todesengel)

der Hofburg = the residence of the Habsburg royal family when they were in Vienna (it also served as the imperial winter residence—_Schloss Schönbrunn _in Hietzing, Vienna was the summer residence); today, it serves as the official residence and workplace of the President of Austria

der Kaiser = the Emperor

Der letzte Tanz gehört allein nur mir. = The final dance belongs to me alone.

Den letzten Tanz, den letzten Tanz tanz ich allein mit dir. = The final dance, the final dance, I dance alone with you.

Die Schatten werden länger. = The shadows are growing longer.

Mit dir stirbt die Welt. = With you, the world dies/is dying.

Halt dich nicht fest daran. = Don't hold onto it.


End file.
